


Grinds in Second

by Therapeutic_Steter



Series: Prompt Fics [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Roscoe the Jeep, peter's a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12502144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: platypusesrneat asked: how about Stiles, pissed about Peter damaging his Jeep because it was sentimental, and Peter, genuinely sorry and simultaneously trying to woo Stiles? (and maybe accidentally making a huge fool out of himself?) thanks once again!





	Grinds in Second

Peter rolled his eyes. “I don’t see why you’re getting all upset. It’s just a rust bucket anyways. I could buy you a new Jeep if you wanted. It’d be nicer and wouldn’t be held up with mostly duct tape.” He hid how the idea made his heart flutter, the idea of providing for Stiles and also protecting him by buying a safer vehicle. He’d never admit just how much he wanted to.

Stiles slammed the hood down, glaring coldly. “I don’t  _want_  a new jeep. I  _want_  you and every other creature in this godforsaken town to have some respect for things and to  _stop breaking my fucking jeep!_ ”

Peter froze, eyes wide at the absolute fury in Stiles’ voice. His chest clenched and his wolf whined, urging him to beg for forgiveness even if he wasn’t even sure what he’d done.

“Get in the damn jeep,” Stiles grumbled, slammed the driver’s door just as hard and glaring out the front window. Peter carefully climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door as gently as he could. Stiles turned the key, having to try three times before the engine turned. Peter didn’t say a word.

As Stiles drove, his anger didn’t dissipate. Peter felt stifled in the cab, glancing over at the boy driving before looking outside or down at his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Peter finally managed to get out, curling his hands together.

“Thank you,” Stiles accepted tersely.

“I’d be happy to pay to have the damages fixed,” Peter offered carefully.

Stiles was quiet for a moment. “I’d appreciate that,” he finally relented, pulling into the long driveway to the new Hale house.

Peter frowned. “I didn’t mean to throw that omega into your jeep.”

Stiles sighed, putting the jeep in park and resting his forehead onto the steering wheel. “I know. And you were protecting me. I get that, and I appreciate it. I like not having claws in my stomach. It’s just…Roscoe isn’t holding up great, he’s getting on with the years, but I’m not ready to let go yet. He…he was my mom’s.” Stiles exhaled slowly, roughly wiping at his eyes in case any wetness had escaped. “But, anyways. Pack meeting time. Let’s just get in there.”

Peter felt gutted. The fire had taken everything from him including most items that had any important memories tied to them. The only things he had left were what had been in the vault, which were mostly valuables but not the sentimental stuff. The pictures Cora doodled, the perfume Talia had loved, his wedding ring that had melted under the flames and been cut off by his doctors. The Camaro had been Laura’s, but that was Derek’s treasure, not that Peter had a right to anything of Laura’s after what he’d done.

He hadn’t realized the jeep was special to Stiles in that way; he just thought the boy held on to his first vehicle to be easy on the Sheriff’s finances as he was wont to do. He felt horrible for failing to realize the importance and for so heartlessly insulting it.

Peter volunteered to take the jeep to the mechanic the next day. Stiles eyed him warily, but mostly just seemed drained. He handed him his keys listlessly.

“He grinds in second,” Stiles warned him, sighing like he’d said the same thing thousands of times.

“I’ll be gentle,” Peter promised. Stiles had already turned away to go back inside, still wearing his sweats and shuffling tiredly. Peter’s chest ached to see the boy so disheartened.

Coaxing the jeep to start, Peter managed to get it to the mechanic without issue.

“I need the dent out of the front. And go ahead and replace the belts, brake pads, and anything held together with duct tape,” Peter instructed, more worried for Stiles’ safety than the costs.

The mechanic whistled as he opened the hood, peering down. “That’s a lot of duct tape,” he muttered, sounding horrified and impressed with equal measure.

“It’s well-loved but well-used,” Peter said.

“Alright,” the man said. “Give me a day or two. I’ll call you once it’s ready.”

…

Peter got the call two days later saying it was ready for pickup. He’d told Stiles it would take as long as so the boy had been hitching rides with Peter or Scott. The boy was still moving languidly, less energetic than usual. His mind always seemed elsewhere and Peter hoped having the jeep fixed would help return the boy to his good spirits.

Peter didn’t even flinch at the bill, running his card and knowing he would’ve paid double if it meant Stiles was happy.

Driving towards the Sheriff’s house, Peter couldn’t help the excitement that started to well up. He just knew this would make Stiles’ happier, would bring back his cheer, and he urged the jeep just a bit faster. The engine wheezed at being forced into a speed beyond the current gear and when Peter tried to switch, it grinded loudly. The engine sputtered, floored, and Peter cursed as it died and he was forced to direct it to the side of the road.

“Dammit!” Peter hissed, wanting to hit something but fearing he’d just make it worse. He knew how to drive a stick, really, but the jeep was temperamental at the best of times.

A knock at the window made him glance over, spotting Stiles standing there with a raised brow. Peter looked forward to realize he was only three houses from the Stilinski home. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten so close only to fail so completely.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted when he opened the door. He was smiling fondly but Peter still pouted morosely.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, burying his head in his hands. “I should’ve just told them to replace everything.”

Stiles laughed. “Nonsense, you’re good, dude. Watch.” Stiles rapped his knuckles on the hood familiarly before reaching over Peter to turn the key. Roscoe coughed a few times before starting up, good as new. Stiles grinned, patting the steering wheel dotingly as it idled.

Peter climbed out of the seat and Stiles waved for him to get in the passenger side. The wolf sat, still sulking as Stiles brought the jeep the rest of the way, parking in the driveway out his house.

“Man, Roscoe’s better than ever. Thanks, Peter.” Stiles turned to him with a smile.

“You’re welcome,” Peter murmured, stunned in the face of Stiles’ delight. “Anytime. It’s the least I could do, for all the times you’ve helped with all the monsters.” He spoke without thought, tongue releasing any words in a desperate attempt to keep Stiles’ attention focused on him. He felt like a teenager again, utterly captivated by his crush and needing his attention on him and him alone.

Stiles chuckled. “Don’t try me; I will totally take you up on that if you’re not careful,” Stiles warned him. He winked cheekily, moving to get out and Peter was quick to follow, rounding the front of the jeep and trailing Stiles as the boy headed for his house.

“I wish you would. You have no idea the lengths I’d go to for you if you only asked.”

Peter paused, eyes wide at his own unplanned blatant honesty. Stiles turned to him with the same surprise on his face, though there was a blush tinting his cheeks that made the boy that much more attractive.

“I’m…sorry. I shouldn’t have…that was too forward of me. I’ll just…” Peter felt unsure for the first time in years, shuffling nervously in the face of Stiles’ shocked silence, and slowly started to back away. He felt foolish, having misread the boy so completely; he needed to retreat back to his apartment, where he could mope in peace over his stupid miscalculations and projected feelings.

“No, wait.” Stiles reached out, grabbing his wrist. “Do you mean that?” Stiles asked like he couldn’t believe anyone could possible mean that in regards to him, like he wasn’t the most beautiful soul, the most amazing person in this godforsaken town.

“I do,” Peter admitted. He was already in this far, why not go ahead and really make a fool of himself before hiding himself away in embarrassment for the next few weeks.

Stiles smile was slow, a creeping thing that soon took up residence on his face. Stiles looked years younger, innocent, so truly happy that he was practically glowing. Peter breath caught at the sight, caught off guard by such honest, pure joy.

“Why don’t you come in?” Stiles asked, still beaming as he gently tugged Peter towards the door of the house. “I could make dinner. And we could watch a movie?” Stiles’ nerves were obvious, but the boy didn’t falter, sure of his welcome even if he was on unsure footing on what should happen next.

Peter smiled, letting Stiles lead him through the front door. “That sounds wonderful,” he answered. His heart fluttered, chest tightened, and he felt like he could take on a whole Alpha Pack to protect this boy’s smile.

Stiles closed the door, pressing close and unsubtly rubbing his cheek against Peter’s shoulder. The wolf gasped, surprised at such obvious scenting, and Stiles’ grin turned mischievous. “And maybe later I could show you what else grinds in second?” he murmured into Peter’s ear.

The wolf couldn’t help it; he laughed loudly.

Stiles pulled back far enough to catch his gaze. “What, too direct?” He asked, smirking.

Peter decided to just go with it, casting off his concerns and wrapping his arms around the boy’s middle to pull him close. “No, never,” he breathed against the boy’s lips, eyes tracking the movement when Stiles’ licked them quickly.  

“Good,” Stiles said, nodding once before pressing forward to seal their lips together. He pulled back just as quick though, winking teasing before heading deeper into the house. He paused just before entering the kitchen, throwing Peter a look over his shoulder.

Peter grinned and followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a prompt on [tumblr](https://therapeutic-steter.tumblr.com/)!


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